Broken Chord by Margaret Moore Page A

she’d intended by coming here. She’d wanted to be charming and win them over. No chance of that now.
    The crone grinned at her, revealing blackened stubs of teeth and said, “Would Madam care to come in and have something to drink?” as she opened the door wider in invitation.
    Ursula repressed a shudder. “No. Just ask him to come out here, now.” She hastily remembered her first intent and added, “Please.”
    “Of course. He’ll be delighted, I’m sure.”
    Ursula turned her back on the house and went a few paces away to observe the pathetic flowers potted in rusting tuna fish tins, the large tins that shops bought to sell the fish by weight. There was not a single saving grace in this house. The family, composed of out-of-work layabouts and rotting old folk, disgusted her so much she would willingly have had them all put down like the cats. She wanted them to vanish from the face of the earth. A complicated legal system protected tenants, especially those who had lived and worked in a place forever without paying any cash rent for the house, merely living in it as a reward for their services. No written contract had ever existed between her aunt and the Rossi family. Her lawyer had advised buying them off but they were indifferent to her offers, or had been up till now. The offer she was going to make to them today was too good to be true. Shewas going to literally buy her house back from them. The sum she would give them would buy them a new house. She’d decided to come in person to make the offer, an offer they couldn’t refuse. If they did, which was unthinkable, they still have to go in the end, without a penny, but it would probably take years, years she didn’t want to have to live through. She brushed insistent flies away and roasted in the heat. Sweat was beginning to dampen her armpits. She felt as though the terrible smell of the animals was settling on her skin. She was going to have another shower, as soon as she got home, to wash it off.
    “You wanted to speak to me.”
    She whipped round and found the old crone’s husband standing far too close to her, close enough for her to smell that he had the same odour as his goats. He, too, was dressed in revolting garments that she thought hardly merited being called clothes. She managed to smile and bravely hold out a hand. “Hello, Mr Rossi, I wonder if I could have a little talk with you.” He grasped her hand in his own roughened and very dirty hand. The black-rimmed fingernails horrified her.
    “Why don’t you come into the house?”
    “No, thanks. I just wanted a quick word. I know we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye about things, but perhaps we could sort things out between us now.” She knew she was violating all the unwritten laws of business transactions by stubbornly remaining in the courtyard, but she couldn’t bring herself to go into the house. Who knew what further horrors lay in wait for her there?
    “Fire away then.” He gave her hand a vicious squeeze before abruptly letting it drop.
    “Look, as you know, I would like to have the house back. My lawyer has approached you several times about this, but I thought we could sort this all out in a friendly way, just the two of us.” She smiled hopefully at him. “I really do understand that you don’t want to go, so, after much thought and after consulting with my lawyer, I’ve decided to make you a very generous offer if you’ll move out.” She was gabbling as though she wanted to get the whole thing over and done with as soon as possible.
    “How much?”, he asked abruptly.
    She named the sum, “With that you can buy a house which would be yours, a much more comfortable house that nobody could ever throw you out of.”
    He stood in silence and screwed his eyes up as though calculating. Then he said, “No. I’m not leaving here. Got it? You can try all you want but I’m staying.”
    “In that case I think you’ll be very sorry. You’ll be thrown out on the street